


Wake

by OldboyJensen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Carnage - Freeform, Dissociation, Dream Sequence, Gen, Gore, Trauma, cognitive dissconnect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9402398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldboyJensen/pseuds/OldboyJensen
Summary: Jack Morrison walks away from the destroyed Swiss base.----This is an interpretive sequel of Gunnslaughter's comic here: https://gunnslaughter.tumblr.com/post/156127349876/i-colored-it





	

“Gabriel?”

Nothing.

“Gabe?”

Nada. Nothing. One of the first things he’d taught Jack. De Nada. From nothing. It was nothing. It was something. There was a lot of blood on Gabe’s mouth. That last spitup. Jack slapped him. Nothing. Again. Still. He was still, still, still. Nada.

There was blood. Jack stared at his hands. Blood. It was in his nose. Why were his eyes blurry? What heat, what heat, what—

He heaved.

               Palms on the ground and back to Gabriel, Jack heaved against the sinking of his heart. His face was crushed under the tension, the stretching. Eyes threatening to burst like a pump had been jabbed in and cranked with a blind vengeance. Sour terror splattered against concrete… dripped from bleeding lips. Congealed food and blood. Tangible grief. It didn’t feel any better. It was supposed to feel better. Jack fell sideways, with his eyes squeezed shut to keep them in his head. To keep the ruins out. To keep Gabe’s body out. He couldn’t stop heaving. Dry hacks and choking. All gone. Need it all-all gone, need it all gone.

\------

 

_Wake up Jackie. It’s a nightmare._

Jack Morrison woke, sputtering and covered in sweat. Of course. He ran his hands through his hair. Sticky. He groaned. He must have fallen asleep on Gabe’s floor again. There was always some sort of spill. For a high faluting super soldier covert ops genius, Reyes was a clumsy moron sometimes. Kicking off his covers and all that…

“How do you sleep like that, Gabe?” Jack grumbled, frowning.

The heavy wool blanket was only halfway up Gabe’s chest. Jack would have fixed it, but he didn’t want to disturb the sleeper. Something told him Gabe needed rest. He needed it too. Everything ached. That’s what came from sleeping on the floor. That’s what you get. Dumbass.

“Goodnight Gabriel,” he whispered as he stroked Gabe’s cheek, “See you in the morning.”

In the morning he would tell Gabe all about the nightmare. It had been particularly tactile this time. And come out of nowhere. A latent fear, he guessed. But it was stupid. How could someone bomb the base? It had been built against that.

It would have had to be an inside job… and why would Jack ever suspect Gabriel? Gabriel his first true friend and lover. Right hand man. Sure they fought, but so did everyone. So did…

His head reeled, and he nearly tripped over a box in the hallway. There was crap scattered everywhere.

“I just want to lay down,” he grumbled, again.

What was that Janitor doing, to let clutter get so bad? He stumbled on her sleeping against the wall and considered waking her for a stern reminder. This is the Overwatch HQ, not some college house. But then again, maybe she just hadn’t gotten to it. She looked so tired. Looked like she’d spilled coffee down herself. It was staining the floor. She mumbled something in her sleep. Sounded like commenter. Strange. More coffee dribbling out the side of her mouth. People were just spilling stuff all over the place tonight. He shook his head and continued stumbling down the long, long hallway.

Why was it so smoky? Was Jesse breaking the outdoors only rule again? He’d have to give that boy a stern talking to. Maybe send him out with Ana again, see if she couldn’t straighten him out.

What was that whistling? Was Reinhardt snoring? Buzzier rumble than usual. Huh.

Huh.

He tripped over something. Oh, a chewtoy. Of course. Why not? Why was it so hot? Somebody needed to turn the air conditioning on. He stripped his shirt off. Then his pants. Nobody was going to be out this late anyway. It sure was bright for darkness. All yellowy. Boy, they sure needed to get the fluorescents checked. He’d make sure Gabe talked to the janitor. Jack’s teeth chattered in the heat, and he continued to stumble forward. Something was wet in his ear. Liquid wax. Of course.

His legs gave out, and he crashed down into the twigs and leaves. The forest? No. A hallucination. Jack groaned. And here he’d thought he’d finally gotten control over his brain. Well, no trouble in moving forward. It was still the base. He could find his dorm. Just more tactile than usual.

“Hahah… hah…”

Tears welled up and fell. It was so funny! A forest? Of all the things his war-fucked mind could come up with, it thought a forest was going to faze him? No, he could see the layout of the building in the trees.

Sure he had bad memories in forests, but after that dream? This was nothing. He’d still talk to Gabe about it, though. It was so nice. It was so nice to have someone always by your side no matter what. Even when they were at each other’s throats, they could always count on each other to drop anything and help work through psychosis and fear and dreams.

It was so nice.

The tears kept falling.

Oh, there it was. There was his bed. So soft and cool in the heat.

Jack Morrison smiled and slid under his covers. They came up to his chin. Tears stopped.

Jack shivered, turned on his side, and lay still. His final grin etched into his broken face.  

\---------

“Fuck.”

Greying dawn was too damn bright. Midnight would be too bright, if he was honest with himself. And that was the plan. Or, that would be the plan once he got out of the fucking creek.

“Goddammit Morrison,” the soldier growled, standing too fast and nearly falling again, “feels like major blood loss… idiot.”

After coughing up a stringy wad of coagulated blood, he gingerly pressed fore and middle finger against his face. Hot. And the skin around the cuts was tender and bloody. Like a chicken wing, if that chicken wing were some, most likely, infected gashes in his face.

But that was, somehow, the least of his problems. The most major one was that Jack Morrison had died. The second most major one was that he had stripped the soldier of all his clothes and thrown him in an ice cold creek before doing so.

“The one time it mattered, and you couldn’t even listen to him then. I reiterate: idiot.”

He tested his hands, then his feet. The latter he could barely feel, the former were rawed and burning.

The soldier was pissed. Sure, there was a lot to take in, a lot to do, but right now his priority was avoiding succumbing to hypothermia completely. He moved out.

Slow going through the underbrush. A part of the soldier was impressed with how far Jack had gotten last night despite everything, but the rest was cursing his name. It wasn’t something to be associated with, that’s for sure. Softwilled moron who got himself killed. And all those others. The soldier’s eyes burned at the thought of the charred corpses. Reyes, the janitor…so many others.

Somebody was responsible.

And after the soldier got himself warm and took care of his wounds? After everything was prepared and all necessary intel gathered?

_You better believe somebody was going to pay._

 

 


End file.
